


ka'rta

by MageOfCole



Series: mhi solus tome [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animal Transformation, Aromantic Jango Fett, Asexual Jango Fett, Background Relationships, CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Death Watch (Star Wars), Developing Relationship, Elf Obi-Wan Kenobi, Empath Obi-Wan Kenobi, Fairy Tale Elements, Female CT-21-0408 | Echo, Female Wooley (Star Wars), Good Parent Jango Fett, Hurt CC-2224 | Cody, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mando'a, Manipulative Relationship, POV Outsider, Prince CC-2224 | Cody, Protective CC-2224 | Cody, Psychological Torture, Queerplatonic Jango Fett/Myles, Queerplatonic Jango Fett/Silas, Torture, Trans Jango Fett, Trans Obi-Wan Kenobi, Unhealthy Relationships, Werewolf CC-2224 | Cody, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: (heart)The last thing Obi-Wan Kenobi remembers is the smell of smoke in the air, interrupting his lessons with Master Qui-Gon, and now he's chained up in a cell, his magic blocked by the collar around his neck. He's eighteen, freshly of-age, and the last thing he expects is to be dragged into a blood feud as old as the Mereel regency.
Relationships: Bruck Chun & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Jango Fett, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango Fett & Myles the Mandalorian, Jango Fett & Silas (Star Wars)
Series: mhi solus tome [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861618
Comments: 334
Kudos: 605





	1. bes'laar (Obi-Wan Kenobi)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CorranBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorranBlue/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (song)

Obi-Wan Kenobi groans as he comes to, head pounding and chained to a wall, a thin enchanted collar around his neck, and he squints into the dim darkness around him. The last thing he remembers is the smell of smoke in the air, interrupting his lessons with Master Qui-Gon. The Court Warlock had just rushed from their rooms, ordering his apprentice to head towards the infirmary to help the healers, and he had gone to follow the order when a sharp pain had exploded across the back of his skull. Now - he has no idea how long it’s been - he’s laying on the damp, packed earth of a small cell, surrounded by wet stone walls, and there’s shackles around his wrists inlaid with glowing red runes that _stink_ of corrupted Dark Magicks, they rattle when he tugs on them, the wall giving resistance and stopping him from moving too far. There’s a constant, irritating drip of water that echoes around the cell, and it makes his already aching head feel like someone was taking a hammer to it, drilling behind his eyes and scrambling his thoughts.

There’s a shift, the sound of limbs dragging across dirt and stone, and Obi-Wan’s ears twitch as he raises his head. He can make out another body in the shadows, and he’s confused for all of a moment before glowing golden eyes blink open, and Obi-Wan’s breath stutters.

 _Cody_.

They have Cody too.

Gold meets gray, and the young elf’s heart pounds in beat with the younger boy’s, his soul singing at the sight of its other half. He had been twelve the first time he had seen his soulmate, still tending to healing wounds left over from his brief stint into slavery, and freshly apprenticed to a Master. When he had heard his Heartsong, Obi-Wan hadn’t known what to do when faced with the one that complimented his soul best - the Crown Prince of Mandalore, a child two years his junior and the Heir to his father’s throne. Obi-Wan had known immediately that he’d have to settle for a platonic relationship with his Heartsong, because Kote Mereel would doubtlessly be expected to marry for politics, and even at twelve Obi-Wan had known that if he fell in love with the other boy, he’d only break his own heart. Unfortunately for him, as the years had passed and he’d built a solid friendship with his soulmate, it was all too easy to fall in love with the young man who had become his dearest friend.

He’s eighteen now, freshly of-age, and Cody is sixteen - likely to be betrothed soon. Cody would become King, he would marry for his Kingdom, and soon Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship under Qui-Gon would be over and he’d be heading back to the Academy, to face his trials and be sent off to his new assignment should he pass. They’d never see each other again, and it’s easier not to start anything Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to keep. He loves too easily, and as a future Court Warlock, Obi-Wan can’t get attached.

The young man shakes himself, ignoring the pain of his throbbing head, and forces himself to slide his eyes away from the Prince’s, “Are you alright, Cody?”

Cody curses, hands flying up to the heavy collar around his neck that keeps him chained and restrained, “ _Bic ni skana'din_.” The Prince growls, tone animalistic and consonants harsh. “Any idea where we are?”

“Somewhere underground.” The elf says blandly, and Cody huffs, rolling his eyes.

“I hadn’t noticed.” The Mandalorian snarks, making Obi-Wan chuckle, absently tugging on the chains around his wrists, eyes finally adjusting to the darkness around him. Cody’s eyes follow the movement, wolf-like in their intensity, and another growl - this one deeper and more feral - rumbles in his chest. “Are you hurt, Obi-Wan?” The young man’s song darkens with a bestial fury and pain that makes Obi-Wan’s heart rate quicken with alarm as the Prince twitches.

“Cody -” he tugs on his chains again, to test their limit, but it’s not enough to reach for him, “ - _Cody_ , what’s wrong?” The younger boy groans in pain, doubling over, and Obi-Wan forces himself to his feet as the Prince shakes, chain rattling loudly.

“I -” Cody wheezes, golden eyes wide and pupils dilated, “ - I don’t - this isn’t _right_.” Before Obi-Wan’s eyes, the collar around the teenager’s neck begins to glow, molten and red, and the dark-haired Prince lets out a cry of pain.

Despite being distracted by Cody’s muffled, agonized noises, the red haired Storm Elf can still pick up the noise of armoured footsteps approaching their cell, and it’s hard to miss the sudden light flooding the area as the sconces light up. The Warlock throws himself forward to put himself forward to put himself between the Prince and whoever was coming down the hall. His magic may be blocked by the thin band of silver around his neck, but Obi-Wan is willing to fight tooth and nail if it means he’d protect Cody. Deceptively loose and ready to fight, he falters when a group of armoured warriors comes to a stop in front of the iron gate of their cell - the design is familiar.

These are Mandalorian warriors, and yet they make no move to help their Crown Prince as he writhes on the dirt floor - instead, Obi-Wan can feel their amusement radiating off of them. He can sense their dark, sadistic enjoyment of the sights and sounds of the Heir’s agony.

Behind him, Cody _snarls_.

“Well, well, well, welcome back to the land of the living, your highness.” The Mando’ad in the lead says mockingly, and Obi-Wan glowers at him.

“Vizsla.” Cody growls, voice rough and distorted - nearly feral. His Song is thrumming with pure hatred, “ _Aruetyc hut’uun_!”

“Excuse me if I don’t bow.” Vizsla laughs, “But Kyr’tsad doesn’t recognize your line of _Jehaat’alor_ as _Mand’alor’e_.”

“Tarre Vizsla _lost_.”

Vizsla just laughs, a dark, ugly thing that makes Obi-Wan shiver in disgust, “And yet here we are: the great House Mereel, cursed, and their perfect little Heir chained at my mercy. The perfect justice for my forefathers.” Then the buy’ce tilts, and Obi-Wan twitches when the enchanted crystal visor peers at him instead. “Where are my manners, we haven't greeted our guests yet - you must be Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

Behind him, chains clatter loudly, and Cody’s animalistic snarl pierces the air, his Song a rapid, protective stattico. “I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted.” Obi-Wan replies slowly, and Vizsla chuckles like he had just said something funny.

“No, we haven’t.” Vizsla says in amusement, “If I’m honest, I couldn’t care less about some pretty little elfling unless I would be getting something a little more - _pleasurable_ \- out of the experience -”

“Don’t touch him, Vizsla -”

“ _K’uur verdika_.” Vizsla says mockingly, brushing aside Cody’s furious threats as if he were nothing more than a pest. “We don’t have time to play with children right now.” Cody curses, before letting out another strangled, canine yelp of pain that has Obi-Wan flinching, wishing he could access his magic to fix this. “Besides, I won’t be the one to touch him - that honour has been claimed by my Court Warlock.” The group of Mando’ade behind Vizsla - the Kyr’tsad - chuckle darkly, and a shiver of horror lances down his spine as Vizsla speaks next, “You remember Xanatos, don’t you elfling? He remembers you.”

Obi-Wan’s ears quiver, and his breath stutters, the chains around his wrists clattering as he reaches up to the slim ring of silver around his throat. He’s in the Bandomeer Mountains again, a magical explosive locked around his neck, the Songs of pain and suffering heavy in the air. He can’t breath and if he doesn’t get Master Jinn out, every single being who calls the mountain range their home will die.

“Bring him.” The voice is far away, but the sharp uptake of terror in Cody’s Heartsong violently pulls the young elf from his memories as the door to their cell creaks open and the Kyr’tsad guards step in and towards Obi-Wan.

“ _Gev_!” Cody’s voice takes on a tone that Obi-Wan had never heard from him before - he’s pleading with Vizsla, _begging_ him to stop, and Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder to meet the Prince’s wide golden eyes. “ _Gedet’ye_ Vizsla.” Glowing eyes shift to Vizsla, and Obi-Wan’s breath catches as Cody dips his head, bowing to the best of his ability with the heavy collar around his neck. The Prince shifts onto his knees as well as he can with the undercurrent of agony in his Song.

“Cody, what are you doing?” Obi-Wan hisses, ignoring the tug on his wrists as the chains are disconnected from the wall. The sixteen year old glances at him out of the corner of his eyes, expression pleading, and Obi-Wan bristles.

Vizsla raises a hand, and the Kyr’tsad guards pause - Obi-Wan can tell that the man is studying them, his emotions curious. “Tell me, Kote Mereel,” The traitor says slowly, “What is this _Jetii_ to you? Why beg me to spare him?”

“Please, let him go.” Cody says instead, “It’s me you want; do what you will to me, but don’t hurt him.”

“Cody - _don’t_.” Obi-Wan chokes out, heart in his throat, and golden eyes slide to his once more. His soulmate’s Heartsong is scared, but is, as always, a dependable rhythm that sings of loyalty and determination and love that steals his breath away and makes his heart flutter.

“ _Ner ka’runi_.” The Prince breathes, and for the barest moments it’s just the two of them. They’re no longer chained in a cell, there’s no pain, and Obi-Wan wants to go to them, to drop down beside him and hold him close as their Heartsongs sing as one.

 **_Mine_** , his heart sings.

 **_Yours_** , Cody’s responds.

“Well,” Vizsla’s voice rings out, darkly amused, “This is definitely a surprise.” He says, and they’re back in the Kyr’tsad prison, and the barest of flinches shakes Cody’s shoulders before pain flashes across his face and he curls in on himself with a ragged gasp. The runes on the collar were beginning to spread across the younger boy’s body, glowing against the earthen brown of his skin like flames. “You know, Tarre Vizsla’s blood curse was supposed to leave the Mereel line _dar’runi_.” Vizsla’s Song is sickly and fascinated. He strides past Obi-Wan to crouch in front of the groaning Prince, reaching out to grasp his dark curls hard enough to hurt, and with a jerk of his hand, he forces Cody’s head up to study his face. “Fascinating.” The man says, and Cody’s eyes flash dangerously as he bares his teeth, fangs glinting in the firelight - and they’re much longer and sharper than they usually are. “We’ll have to test the limit of the bond - tell me, have you completed it?”

“No.” Cody snarls, eyes sliding away from Vizsla’s visor to meet Obi-Wan’s once more, and there’s a different kind of pain in his Song - a longing that Obi-Wan had been trying to ignore for the last six years.

“A shame.” Vizsla says mockingly, then raises a hand to signal to his soldiers.

Within seconds, Obi-Wan finds himself hauled forwards by the chains around his wrists, and he’s forced to stagger after the Kyr’tsad knights to keep his balance and avoid falling on his face. He hears Cody let out a wordless howl and the rattling of chains, and his last sight of his soulmate is of the Prince crumbling to the ground, the skin of his face torn open and blood pooling in the dirt.


	2. tal'din (Cody Mereel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (bloodline)

“That pretty little collar around your neck? It’ll make you Shift boy, but it will make it slow, and it will make it hurt.” Vizsla, the dirty traitor - a _dar’Manda hut’uun_ \- had told him, voice dark and bloodthirsty after Obi-Wan - his mate, his _ka’runi_ , his other half - had been dragged from the cell and he had make a half-crazed lunge to reach him. It had failed, of course, because Cody was still chained to the wall, and Vizsla had struck him across the face with his spiked gauntlet. “It will drive you mad first, until you’re nothing more than a rabid beast; don’t worry _Alor’ika_ , your precious _ka’runi_ won’t be killed - not by our hands. No, we’ll bring him back, and he’ll get to watch you turn - you’ll do the dirty work for us… if you don’t tear yourself apart first. The traitorous bastard had laughed. “By the time your precious Buir arrives, you’ll be nothing more than the slavering beast my ancestor made you, and we’ll let you out to hunt him while we march for the capital.” Cody had snarled at him then, a guttural, wild sound that had only made the bastard laugh louder. “We’ll kill those brothers of yours, and hang their bodies in the square as an example to the clans of what will happen should they resist.” A boot to the stomach had stopped him from throwing himself at the _demogolka_ threatening his _vod’ike_ , and a spike of burning agony down his spine had left him writhing in pain. “But don’t worry, we’ll leave those sisters of yours alive - Eyayah and Willah was it? Echo and Wooley - how quaint. How old are they again? Well, it doesn’t matter - I’ll marry one of them to my son, to ensure our hold on the Throne. I promised the other to Lord Montross for his loyalty.” Cody had flinched in horror - first at the mention of his sisters, then at the name of the man who had been his grandfather’s closest advisors and friends. “He always had a taste for the pretty young ones - had wanted that aunt of yours first, he liked her hair, you see, and he grieved that he couldn’t have her when she died so young and pretty. But little Princess Willah seems to favour her colouring.” He had laughed again in the face of Cody’s snarled threats of what he would do to him, and given him a mocking pat on the cheek as if he were an especially cute child who had said something charming.

That had been hours ago, and Cody has been alone since. He’s been alone to deal with the slow, painful process of his blood boiling in his veins, his joints beginning to shift, and his bones creaking; usually, the Shift itself was a quick process - not painless, and with an agonizing fever leading up to it, but it was always relatively fast, and he’d always have pack around him to help him through it. He’s alone, and the only thing he can do is desperately reach for the soulbond he shared with his _ka’runi_ , to try to ground himself against the crippling agony burning through his veins, and trying to piece together what had happened over what could have been the last couple of hours, or even the last couple of days - Cody isn’t sure how long he’s been chained in the Kyr’tsad cell, or how long it had been since the attack that had landed him there.

He had been in his study, going over some paperwork for his Buir when the explosion had rocked the Keldabe Palace and Montross had burst in, telling him that the invaders were heading towards the Royal Wing, where his younger siblings were in lessons with their tutors. Cody had been so intent on reaching his _vod’ike_ , so willing to trust the Lord who had been a close, personal friend of his late grandfather that he had never expected an attack to come from behind. _Montross_ \- the sick bastard, he should have listened to Fives’ gut feeling that the man paid too much attention to his _vod’ike_ , to Rex and Wooley in particular, the only two of the Mereel children to inherit their aunt’s colouring. And if Vizsla wasn’t just lying to play some sort of sadistic mind game, then it wasn’t because the man, like many of those sworn to House Mereel, mourned the tragic death of a young Princess. He had _trusted_ him. Montross had been a member of the Royal Household from before even his Buir had been born, and had been a steady figure for Cody’s entire life. How long had the _hut’uun dar’Manda shabuir_ been a traitor? How long had he been selling his loyalty to Clan Vizsla?

Suddenly, his grandfather’s death became all the more suspicious.

And Clan Vizsla - they had been nothing short of loyal since Tarre Vizsla had lost against House Mereel’s first King and had proven himself to be an _aruetyc hut’uun_ by using his magic to curse the Mereel bloodline to even the point where those adopted into the line found themselves suffering from the Soul Beast Curse. How had they managed to collect so many followers that Tor Vizsla felt secure enough in his abilities to attempt to take the throne?

Trying to piece everything together with the limited amount of information that he has is at least somewhat distracting from the twisting, stabbing pain in every part of his body, and from his fear of what is happening to Obi-Wan while he can do nothing but writhe in agony. He’s afraid of what du Crion could be doing to his _ka’runi_ , because he remembers how sadistic the former Warlock could be behind Master Jinn’s back.

How had Vizsla gotten in touch with Xanatos - the man had been expelled from the Jedi Academy for his use of Dark Magicks, and had returned to the Kingdom of his birth, where the du Crion family were an important political figure. The man was supposed to be running his family’s estate, why would he be in Mandalore? How does he know Obi-Wan?

What is he doing to his _ka’runi_?

Even without a fully realized Bond between them, their soulbond has had six years to strengthen the connection between them, and Cody is able to pick up the faintest echoes of his soulmate’s emotions.

Unease, fear, alarm, and pain has been the constant thrum in the back of his mind, emotions that aren’t his own. He’s been trying to reach out to him, and he’s always rebuffed, a gentle push away that is accompanied by worry for him, and the faintest flash of **_love/Mine/takecare/besafe_ ** . Whatever is happening to Obi-Wan, the older boy is trying to protect him, and it stings, because Cody can’t protect _him_. He’s the Crown Prince of Mandalore, the firstborn son of Jango Fett, and yet he couldn’t even defend himself against a traitorous coward.

As it is, at least his attempt to connect to his soulbond seems to be staving off the madness Vizsla had enjoyed taunting him with. But Cody can feel it, stalking in the back of his mind like a caged beast, the instincts of a bloodthirsty animal battling against his conscious mind, though the occasional brush against Obi-Wan’s soul seems to chase it away for a time.

It does nothing for the pain, however.

He’s just curled up to try to center himself as agony rips through his stomach, rocking himself faintly as his organs feel like they’re shredding, when he picks up the sound of footsteps approaching, and the magical sconces on the walls outside his cell light up with a harsh red light. Cody twitches, grits his teeth, and forces himself to sit up, to lean against the damp stone of the wall - he’s been through worse, he tries to convince himself, ignoring the blood on his face. If he could force himself to keep moving through _Alor’aan be_ _Ori’Ramikad_ Aldwyn’s harsh marshal training then he could make himself sit up straight now.

There’s a clatter of movement right before a small group comes into his line of sight. The leader is a tall, slim elf with snowy hair tainted red in the light and the sickly, yellow eyes of a being entrenched in Dark Magicks. They’re surrounded by a small group of automatons, and Cody can immediately pick up the familiar scent of ozone and fresh rain, marred by the iron scent of blood.

 _Obi-Wan_.

Cody jerks, eyes widening and teeth bared threateningly as the white haired elf opens the cell door and two automatons march in, a slack figure between them. Cody’s heart pounds in rage as his stomach drops as Obi-Wan’s limp body is thrown, without care, onto the dirt floor. He lands just out of Cody’s reach, and doesn’t move.

“Xanatos wasn’t lying.” The other elf says in fascination, and Cody’s head snaps up to glare furiously at the unknown Dark Warlock. “ _Kenobi_ really _does_ have a soulmate.” Something dark and annoyed enters their expression, and the elf sneers. “Of course _he_ does.”

“What did you do to him?!” Cody snarls - and he’s momentarily taken aback by his own voice. It’s guttural and deep, like his vocal cords make the needed sounds to do anything but growl like an animal. And it’s accompanied by the feeling of his throat tearing, and blood bubbling into his mouth.

The elf scoffs, “ _I_ did nothing, but you should really tell Kenobi not to be such an arrogant fool. Few rarely survive taunting my Master.” They roll their eyes, and Cody spits out the blood on his tongue. “He really was asking for it.”

Cody growls at him, baring his teeth, and there must be something terrifying in his expression because the elf flinches back before straightening and trying to correct their posture as to not let it show. They clear their throat, tugging on their dark robes.

“I hope you like your cell, your highness, because it’s the last thing you’ll ever see.” The white haired elf sneers, before turning on their heel and marching off down the hall, their automatons following and shutting the cell door behind them, leaving Cody alone with his unconscious _ka’runi_ and agony in every nerve in his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Aldwyn is Alpha-17, and he's General of the Supercommandos which I'm using as a rank that pretty much just means that he's Mandalore's highest ranking general)  
> Mando'a is from http://mandoa.org/ and http://holocron.swcombine.com/wiki/Mandalore_Ranks


	3. buruk (Obi-Wan Kenobi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (danger)

For the second time in - well, Magick knows how long it had been since the attack on Keldabe, because it was hard to keep track of time when unconscious or… aggressively interrogated - Obi-Wan is waking up sprawled on wet stone and damp dirt. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he fell unconscious, and he knows even less of how much time had passed since he had been dragged into what seemed to be a ritual room that had been absolutely drenched in two familiar magical signatures that Obi-Wan could sense even with the dampening collar around his neck. He had recognized Xanatos du Crion immediately - he hadn’t changed much in the last six years since he had last sensed the man’s signature and it was hard to forget the Duke of Telos - but it had taken longer for Obi-Wan to recognize the Snow Elf at the Human’s side, but he had managed it eventually, even with his sickly yellow eyes. The last time he had seen Bruck Chun, the two of them had been twelve and dueling for the attention of a Master, hopeful someone would take them on as an Apprentice.

If he were honest, he hadn’t given his former crèchemate as much of a passing thought since coming to Mandalore, but he _never_ would have thought that the other boy would have Fallen. He’d never liked the other Elf much, not since they were nine and Bruck had started picking on him relentlessly, but Obi-Wan would have never thought him capable of such cruelties as what Xanatos was capable of inflicting - Bruck was petty and angry but never out-right cruel and bloodthirsty. Bant had written to him that his childhood rival had left the Academy, to return to his family, and Obi-wan hadn’t thought of him beyond that.

And now, he can’t help but wonder if he had looked in on his crèchemate, maybe he could have kept him away from Xanatos and the allure of the Dark. Obi-Wan wonders if he had just tried to reach out to the other boy, if he had just tried harder, then maybe Bruck wouldn’t have felt the need to turn to Dark Magicks. It’s a dark, painful spiral that he finds himself in, questioning the what-ifs and what-could-have-been, and - most of all - _why_.

He wakes up, no longer stringed up like a toy, no longer staring down the automaton created and enchanted solely to torture him, no long looking at two pairs of poisonous yellow eyes and taunting them, hoping desperately that they’d be too busy with him and they’d leave Cody alone. He’s in the cell again, which feels like a comfort compared to where he was, and he can sense his soulmate near him and hear his heavy, laboured breathing. He can hear the rattling of chains and the muffled noises of pain that tears at his heart and makes him feel ill. He’s not chained up to the wall this time, instead he’s sprawled, face-down, in the wet earth and stone. He can feel the alchemical drug the automaton had dosed him with burning in his veins and making it hard to focus. Having Cody close though, and feeling his Heartsong prodding at their bond, is a relief among the pain that pulses through both of their bodies.

His entire body aches, it feels like there’s bugs crawling beneath his skin and eating away at everything in their way and drilling into his bones, and Obi-Wan finds himself opening up to the probe and - _oh._

_Oh._

The bond snaps into place like a starburst in his soul, and his heart _sings_ in tune with its mate. Beautiful music fills his mind, made of love and loyalty and a burning determination to protect, and Obi-Wan breathes easier with Cody’s fire warming his chest.

But he also feels something dark and ravenous in the other boy’s soul, an all-consuming howl for blood that refuses to be calmed, and Obi-Wan knows without being told that this is the blood curse on the Mereel line. _This_ is what leaves the Royal Family bedridden and i agony once a month, this is what Cody has been researching all his life to try to discover a cure to, to save his younger siblings the pain, and led to his stress every time another Mereel younger than him Shifts for the first time. It leaves an echo of crippling pain in his spine and has him tasting blood not his own on his tongue.

“Obi-Wan?” He almost doesn’t recognize the voice - it’s distorted and warped, like his mouth and tongue are no longer shaped to speak the common tongue, but Obi-Wan knows that it’s Cody because the younger boy’s Heartsong swells with relief and awe.

The young Elf twitches in response, fighting his quivering limbs, trying to make them respond as he tries to turn towards his soulmate and force his heavy eyes to open. He coughs around his ragged throat, spitting out the blood forced into his mouth as a result, and he feels Cody’s alarm as if it were his own as he hacks and shokes momentarily.

It takes a moment for Obi-Wan to collect himself, and Cody’s anxiety grows with every second that passes before Obi-Wan is confident in his ability to speak. He swallows, forcing his laden tongue to move, and he opens his mouth, “Hello there.” The Elf rasps, and Cody’s relief is palpable as he pushes himself over into his back gracelessly, then leverages himself up on his elbows. His vision is blurry, and he turns his head towards where he knows that Cody is still strung up to the wall by the collar around his neck. He can’t fully make out the Prince’s features, but he can see the burning red runes crawling across the other boy’s face despite the thick shadows cloaking him.

Cody sighs in relief, sagging into the darkness, and a sudden crack of agony down the Prince’s spine has them both flinching. Obi-Wan reaches out across their established bond in an attempt to sooth his pain, almost without realizing it. With his mind steadily clearing from the fog of torture and unconsciousness, and a bond that sings with a sense of _rightness_ , Obi-Wan realizes just what he did - Magick, he hadn’t even thought of it, he’d just opened up to their bond. He’d done what he had been trying to avoid - he’s completed the soulbond.

He’s ruined any chance Cody could have to live a relatively normal life with the relatively normal relationship. They were bound together now, and neither of them would be able to feel romantic love for anyone else; if Obi-Wan hadn’t been so reckless, Cody would have had the chance to build a relationship with someone who could give him everything he deserved.

Suddenly, Cody lets out a garbled noise of agony, and their soulbond is slammed shut from the Prince’s end as the dark haired boy doubles over as a harsh snap of bones breaking fills the stale air of their cell. Obi-Wan jerks, a sudden rush of adrenalin helping him stumble to his feet, and he lunges over to Cody’s side, watching in horror as the muscles in the boy’s shoulders writhe and twist around a freshly dislocated and contorted arm. His hands hover uselessly, unsure where to put them without causing any more pain as his soulmate’s forehead grinds into the dirt, probably pushing the damp earth into the split in the side of his face.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Cody moans out a slight sob, the sound garbled and inhuman, and Obi-Wan makes up his mind. He reaches out, dropping to his knees beside him, and he gently pulls his shaking soulmate onto his lap, resting the younger boy’s head on his legs.

“ _K’uur Kote_.” He soothes softly, gently wiping away the blood and dirt caked to Cody’s face with his sleeve, and tracing the jagged, twisted wound that had been inflicted on him. It’s a warped, terrible thing that just misses the boy’s amber eye, and can partially distract him from the way his soulmate’s body is twisting and tearing itself apart - it’s _something_ he can do, at least, in some little way. “ _Ni cuy’olar, cyar’ika. K’oyacyi_.”

“ _Ner ka’runi._ ” Cody’s garbled voice responds, teeth grinding and jaw clenched as his throat works against him, and wide, feverishly bright golden eyes meet Obi-Wan’s gray. The gaze is searching, hopeful, but so scared, and all Obi-Wan can do is gently card his aching fingers through Cody’s thick curls and try to hush his pained noises.

“ _Gar ka’runi_.” He tries to sooth, pushing away his own pain and fear - Cody needs him right now. “I’m here Cody.”

Glowing eyes flicker, fearful, but they don’t leave his face, and Cody stares at him like he’s the answer to every question he’s ever asked. He looks at him like Obi-Wan is the only thing that exists, like he’s the last thing he’ll ever see. “Don’t - don’t want to hurt you.”

“You never could.” Obi-Wan promises, bending over the shaking body in his arm to press a gentle, lingering kiss to Cody’s fevered brow, biting back his own tears. “I’m here, cyare, and I won’t leave you. Not this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k'uur - hush  
> ni cuy'olar, cyar'ika - I'm here, sweetheart  
> K’oyacyi - usage: hang in there


	4. cuyanir (Jango Mereel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (survive)

Mand’alor Jango Mereel storms through the Keldabe Palace like a man possessed by a vengeful god, just like he had been for the last number of days since the cowardly attack in his home by those _hut’uun Kyr’tsad aruetiise_. Since the moment he had learned that his firstborn - his Kote; the fiercely brave, wonderful boy that Jango had carried and birthed and raised in the ways of the _Resol’nare_ like his Jas’ _buir_ had done for him - was gone, leaving behind an empty study and an orange-painted buy’ce abandoned in the middle of the hall, where Kote must have been heading towards the Royal Wing when the attack had happened, and where someone took him by surprise. He had to have been ambushed, because there was no sign of a struggle and Jango knows from the bottom of his heart that his boy would have fought like Manda reborn if given the opportunity.

His son’s _ka’runi_ is missing too.

There are those in his council who tried to blame the young Warlock, using old hatred as proof that the _jetii_ had betrayed them and taken their Prince - and maybe Jango would have been inclined to agree to those suspicions, had it been anyone but Obi-Wan Kenobi. It’s no secret that their Mand’alor doesn’t like magic - doesn’t _trust_ it or those who use it - because the tragedy of Galidraan left a lasting wound on Jango’s soul, and it’s only his love and respect for his _Buir_ and his dreams that stays his hand from banishing any member of the Jedi Academy from his kingdom. Jaster had wanted peace, and Master Warlock Qui-Gon Jinn had been his father’s friend, but that hadn’t meant that there weren’t moments when he wanted to ring the infuriating man’s neck despite his father’s desire to make peace with the Warlocks after generations of conflict; the Malidaan Incident the most prominent in Jango's memories.

But Obi-Wan?

He had watched that boy grow up, he had given him advice and helped him with his training as he would with any of his _ade_. Even if the young Elf hadn’t been his son’s soulmate, he had come to view the boy as another son; he had been disappointed, of course, that the boy didn’t acknowledge the bond between himself and Cody, but it’s also easy to forget that Obi-Wan and Cody are both still children who come from two very different cultures. The Court Warlocks preach unattachment, professionalism so that they never put one kingdom over another, while the Mando’ade are nothing if not attached, willing to burn the world for those they love.

If it were anyone other than Kenobi, Jango wouldn’t have felt so personally offended by his council’s suspicions, he wouldn’t have so furiously denied the boy’s involvement in the attack on the Palace and Cody’s disappearance. The moment Cody had recognized the young Warlock as his _ka’runi_ , the boy had become family, whether he accepted the bond or not.

Obi-Wan is a good kid, who absolutely cares for his son - _loves_ him even - and Jango could never see him purposefully hurting Kote. Jango saw it in the way the boys danced around each other, the way the Elf looked at his son when he thought no one was looking - the longing, sad stare that watched Cody when his back was turned. He hadn’t accepted the soulbond, for whatever reason, but Jango knew that Obi-Wan is in love with his Heir.

“Mand’alor!” Jango pauses when he hears his branch-cousin’s voice, bundling away his fury and turning to greet the young man hurrying towards him. Nineteen year old Fox Mereel is already a promising _ramikad_ who had the skills to become an _ori’ramikad_ in the future - to see the young man, usually always calm and collected, so troubled is quite an alarming sight. He’s seen his cousin ruffled and annoyed - usually caused by his _vod’ike_ and their ability to find trouble wherever they go - but never so openly alarmed. His beskar’gam might hide his body from sight and shield his expression, but every _Mando’ad_ knows how to read the boy language of their comrades. “Master Tholme and his apprentice have found something.”

Jango turns on his heel, to march towards the Warlock with Ser Fox falling into step behind him. Master Tholme had arrived in Keldabe within two days of the attack, with his apprentice in tow, and the two Warlocks had been trained specifically in investigating and combating Dark Magicks. They had been following a trail that had been picked up in Mandalore territory and had been coming to request permission to continue their investigation in his lands; investigating the disappearance of the Kingdom’s Heir and the Court Warlock’s apprentice technically wasn’t part of their assignment, but it was a personal favour to Jinn, and the younger Warlock’s long-time friendship with the missing Elf that had them sticking around.

The apprentice - a Quinlan Vos - was apparently of the Kiffu Tribes, where some were born with innate mental magicks that allowed them to view the imprinted memories of objects, and _Hibir_ Vos happened to be one of those with the gift. He had been locked away in meditation, with Obi-Wan’s bag and Cody’s _buy’ce_ , sorting through the memories lingering on the items to try and find any possible clues to how and where the missing boys were taken.  
For Fox to come and hunt him down while he was supposed to be guarding the Shadows, Vos must have found _something_.

The guard placed on the door - Able Lubang of a minor Fett branch clan, one of Silas’ best _ramikad’e_ and one of Jango’s many, _many_ distant cousins - salutes when Jango approaches, stepping aside as the two Mereels sweep past zim and into Warlock chambers.

The circular ritual room is mostly bare, save for the three Warlocks standing in the center, and all three of them look up when the Mand’alor and his _ramikad_ enter.

“Your Grace.” Jinn bows politely, and Tholme and Vos follow his example, but Jango is beyond caring about something as small and unimportant as proper courtesy and status when one of his children, and another youngling under his protection, are missing.

“What did you find?” He demands, eyes narrowing in on where Vos stands, Kote’s _buy’ce_ in his hands.

Vox shifts, dark eyes intense and fathomless, and his expression drawn and angry, “You’ve been betrayed, Mand’alor.” The boy says when Jinn nods in encouragement, “A man named Montross was the one to attack Prince Kote.”

Jango goes stiff. _Montross_? They may not have gotten along at the best of times, but Jango had respected the older man’s abilities - he had been among his _Buir_ ’s closest advisors, and one of Arla’s most beloved mentors. Why would he have attacked Cody? He’s always been kind to Jango’s children, never letting his personal disagreements with the Mand’alor get in the way of his position as one of the Royal advisors.

He swears viciously, biting down on his immediate reaction to rip and tear and _destroy_.

“He was working with the insurgents that attacked the Palace.” Vos continues, eyeing him as if he were a dangerous animal he had encountered in the wild, one that would attack if he moved wrong. “He came to the Prince’s study when the attacks began, and told him that the Royal Wing was being targeted. When his back was turned, Montross attacked him and turned him over to the attackers.” Tholme gestures for the boy to continue, “And Obi-Wan was attacked by a magic wielder, one that could avoid his detection, on the other side of the Palace while heading towards the hospital wing.”

Jango curses again. Not only was Montross working with Kyr’tsad, but the _aruetiise_ also had a trained magic wielder with them. “Fox.” He barks, and the young man straightens, snapping to attention. “Take some _ramikad’e_ and bring Montross to the Throne room. The _dar’Manda arutii_ will answer for his betrayal.” Jango bares his teeth, fists clenching at his side as he imagines ripping the traitor apart and making him _scream_ for attacking one of Jango’s pups. He’d make it slow, and leave the _hut’uun_ to bleed out in front of his throne - he’d paint his _beskar’gam_ with his blood in the way of his ancestors before the hunt. “Bring him to me _alive_.”

Fox salutes, his own animalistic desire for a hunt, for vengeance to be brought to the ones who hurt one of their pack, rising to answer his King and alpha’s. “ _Oya_!”


	5. oya'karir (Rex Mereel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (hunt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an apology for missing last week's update, here's a second one this week!

The Palace has been buzzing with fury thick enough to choke a person since it’s Crown Prince was taken, a permanent, dark cloud of terrifying wrath darkening the halls as warriors and their King pace like caged beasts just waiting to be unleashed to hunt. Mandalore loves it’s Heir, with such a burning passion that it would scare a lesser man. But Rex isn’t afraid, not of his father or the people of Keldabe - he’s angry too, the wolf under his skin howls to be let out, to be allowed to hunt and draw blood, because his _ori’vod_ is _gone_. He had been stolen from their home, and place that was supposed to be safe, and by someone who they had all trusted. And now, with him gone, Fives and Echo are jumping at shadows without their big brother to watch their backs, Boba is a snarling, aggressive mess without Cody to help him reign his fury in, and Tup and Wooley can’t stop crying because Cody _isn’t there_.

With Cody missing, Rex is their father’s Heir until his older brother is brought back to Keldabe. And Rex isn’t _enough_. He’s _trying_ , but without Cody he feels lost, unmoored and drifting without direction, without a way to funnel his manic energy and with a mind that spirals into the darkest corners without Kote there to pull him back up to breath. He refuses to think about what would happen if Cody isn’t - if he doesn’t come back.

Rex had always had a sense of purpose with how it would be: Cody as the next Mand’alor and Rex as one of his generals, and the fourteen year old refuses to see the future in any other way. Cody _would_ come back, and Obi-Wan would come with him - and maybe, if they’re all lucky, the time together away from the Palace would see the two of them completing their bond. But until then, Rex will try his best to be what his _vod’ike_ need, because he knows that it’s what Cody would want him to do, and he’ll make sure that there’s at least a dent made in his brother’s paperwork.

The Mando’ade had already been calling for blood, but when they learned that one of their own had betrayed them and helped Kyr’tsad attack the capital? Well, it was only the Mand’alor’s order to bring him alive that kept Montross breathing long enough to be put to trial. And Rex insists on being there. He’s fourteen, old enough to have armour, old enough to kill, and old enough to look a traitor in the eye as he’s put to death, and the former Advisor no doubt will be.

Rex watches coldly from beside his _Buir_ ’s throne as Montross is brought in, shackled and chained, but still an intimidating man, and marched forward by a stone-faced Ijaat Skirata and an openly furious Wolffe Fett, Silas following behind, expression carefully controlled. There’s a thunderous anger obvious in Si’ _buir_ ’s green eyes and it’s such a _Cody_ expression that it makes Rex angrier. The old man is limping, nose broken and hip slashed; the wounds had been tended to, more because the Mand’alor wanted Montross aware enough to answer for what he did than an actual urge to lessen the traitor’s pain, and _Baar’ur_ Gilamar is too much a professional to let the rage at the loss of his wife to interfere with a direct order, even if it was Montross’ betrayal that led to the death of Knight-Captain Tani Mereel and the head injury that had put their youngest son in a hospital cot. Though Rex does wish that Mij had let him suffer a little bit more.

Montross stumbles to his knees when Ser Wolffe pushes him forward, towards the base of the dais where the Mand’alor’s throne sits, and the old Lord bares his teeth and growls in response to the treatment. He’d been stripped of his armour and honour after he’d been apprehended, and the blood staining his clothes lights a primal feeling of dark satisfaction in Rex’s chest.

“Bran Montross.” The Mand’alor’s deep rumbles above the din of angry Mando’ade like a thunder clap, and the spectators to the trial go quiet, bowing to their King, but their enraged eyes don’t leave Montross’ form.

“Fett.” Montross spits back, like Rex’s _Buir_ ’s clan of birth is a grave insult, and Rex’s fury swells at the disrespect. Jango Fett may have been adopted into the Mereel line, but his claim to the throne wasn’t any less valid because of it, and he carried the royal name with more honour than Montross had in a single finger. His _Buir_ brought glory to their House, and was widely seen as Mand’alor Jace Malcolm of Mereel come again, no matter his beginnings as the youngest child of a humble farmer.

A lazy gesture stops any aggressive movements towards the prisoner, and the Mand’alor studies the traitor with eyes cold enough to burn, “You’re here as an _aruetii,_ and you’d do well to remember that, Montross. You’ve proved yourself _dar’Manda_ by aiding an attack on _Manda’yaim_ and attacking the _Ven’alor_. What say you in your defense?”

There’s a moment of silence as Montross stares at the King, before something dark enters his expression, and he throws his head back and laughs. “My defense?” The man repeats mockingly, dark eyes glittering with a madness that makes Rex’s stomach churn. “We both know I’m as good as dead, mongrel.” Montross grins with the confidence of a man who knows he’s going to die either way and has nothing left to lose. “But I’ll die knowing that I destroyed something you loved.”

Rex bares his teeth, and it’s only Ser Aldwyn’s iron-grip clamping down on the collar of his tunic that stops him from throwing himself forward and going for the bastard’s throat. His father’s General lets out a subvocal growl of warning, like Rex is a misbehaving pup, and the Prince forces himself to stand down. If he wanted to, Rex could order the man to let go of him, to let him tear out the traitor’s heart - with Cody… _missing_ … Rex is the second-most powerful person in the land, and while Aldwyn may be Mandalore’s highest ranking General, and one of the King’s closest advisors, even he had to bow to an Heir’s direct order. But Rex never would, because he trusts and respects the hard bastard of a man.

“My _son_ , Montross.” The King’s snarl is guttural, and a resounding flinch overtakes the throne room - they can all see the beast lurking in the Mand’alor’s soul. Most of those in Keldabe have been affected by the soul beast curse, related to the Mereel House as they are, and it’s been spreading through the generations like wildfire. They all know what could happen should their alpha lose control. “ _Where is he_.”

Montross stares for a moment, then chuckles, “There’s nothing _left_ to save Fett.” He drawls, then grunts when Si’ _buir_ steps forward and strikes the man in the jaw with a gauntleted fist at the King’s wordless signal. Montross’ head jerks to the side, blood splattering across the stone floor, and there’s a moment of silence - tense and electric - where Montross remains kneeling, head bowed, before he spits out a mouthful of blood and straightens, eyes flashing and lip split. There’s blood on his face, bright against the paleness of the _hut’uun_ ’s skin, and all Rex can think is that he deserves _worse_.

“I hope it haunts you for the rest of your miserably short life, mongrel.” Montross snarls, “Whatever’s left of your _precious glory_ won’t be human. Your House’s reign is _over_.”

Rex _howls_ , lunging forward, but Myl’ _buir_ ’s strong arms catch him around the waist, pulling him against a broad chest. Myles doesn’t even flinch as Rex kicks, twisting in his hold and snarling as he tries to fight his way free so that he can _tear/rip/ **destroy**_. His other father holds tight, voice quiet in his ears, but Rex can’t make out the words over his own overwhelming fury as he’s pulled from the room.


	6. skanah (Bruck Chun)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (much hated person)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was pointed out to me that Bruck and Xanatos' sexual relationship could be read as underaged, so I just wanted to apologize for that. In my head I was writing it as they didn't become sexual until Bruck was 18 - legally an adult. Their relationship is definitely manipulative with a massive power imbalance and icky age gap, and Bruck was groomed, but Xanatos didn't sexually touch him until he was 18.  
> I did tag it as Implied/Referenced though, even if that wasn't what I meant it as, so I'm super super sorry if it came off that way

Bruck Chun was a bitter, angry child who grew into a bitter, angry man. Born the youngest son of five, with only a sister junior to him, Bruck had spent the first five years of his life faded into the background, overlooked and forgotten in favour of others. He had spent those years learning the history of their family, and putting his heart and soul into those lessons to make his father proud. By five, he could recite their family tree with his eyes closed, and his tutors sang his praises.

But it still wasn’t enough.

When Master Jinn had Searched him, accompanied by his then-Apprentice, Bruck had thought that something was finally going to change, that he’d be more than just the youngest son of a disgraced and banished line of royalty. He’d be a sorcerer, a Warlock. But being brought to the Jedi Academy of the Coruscant Mountains brought a whole new set of challenges; here, he wasn’t the only child with gifts, and his memory and ability to recall information wasn’t anything special. The things that had set him apart from his siblings meant nothing to the Academy, because he was just one of many. At first, Bruck had flourished among children like him, and he had made friends, but then he started to see the world around him for what it was.

He wasn’t special, and no matter what he did it would never be enough.

 _At least_ , he told himself, _Master Jinn will take me as an Apprentice_. He had Searched him, after all, like he had Xanatos years before him. Maybe Xanatos would take him; they were from the same kingdom, and Xanatos had always paid him special attention whenever he and Master Jinn were in the Academy. But the years passed, Xanatos left, and Master Jinn stayed away, and Bruck’s confidence wavers, because he wants to be a Knight-Warlock, and he can’t be that unless he becomes an Apprentice but no Master is looking his way.

 _No_ , they were looking at _Oafy-Wan_ \- the miserably clumsy half-breed whelp of a Storm Elf mongrel and a Fire Elf peasant, who is talented and smart and so, so _bright_. They look at Kenobi, who has Master Yoda’s attention, and they look away from Bruck, no matter how much he tries. So Bruck lies, he taunts Oafy-Wan into an unsanctioned duel and frames him, because the tournament is both of their last hope to become Apprentices and if Kenobi isn’t there to steal attention away from him then Bruck would be Chosen.

But it doesn’t happen, and even though Kenobi is sent away, Bruck still isn’t noticed. And then Kenobi _comes back_ , Apprenticed to _the_ Master Jinn, and Bruck chooses to leave. He went back to Telos, to reunite with his family, where he ignores them just as much as they ignore him - and then he bumps into Xanatos. He’s finally _seen_.

_He’s finally Chosen._

Xanatos sees him, he hears him, and Bruck _loves_ him for it. Bruck would do anything for his Master, he would do anything the man asked of him. He gave Xanatos _everything_ ; he gave him his soul, his heart, and even his body - he gave him everything he asked for, and he doesn’t question him, because Xanatos is the only person to ever see him.

Bruck doesn’t question him, not until they’re sprawled in the bed of their loaned quarters in the Death Watch fortress, and not even sex can chase the image of Kenobi’s seizing body from his mind, or the phantom smell of his blood from his nose. He may not have liked Kenobi - just the other Elf’s presence rubbed Bruck the wrong way, a testament of their opposing natures - but he couldn’t bring himself to hate him like he should, not after seeing the Mandalorian Prince’s desperation to get to Kenobi, or watching the red haired Elf cradling the writhing boy, trying to soothe him, and begging to be left in the cell with his soulmate, to ease his pain, but being dragged away to be tortured anyways. It leaves a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach, something close to guilt, and for the first time in a long time, Bruck _questions._

And Xanatos ignores him, he looks away from him, and kicks Bruck from their rooms for his mistake.

Bruck would do anything for his Master, but _this_?It feels like too much.

Feeling lost, Bruck stands in the hall, naked and bruised, his robes bundled into his arms. Xanatos had been the most important thing in his life for the last five years, and Bruck never thought that he’d find something that could make his loyalty to the man waver, but Kenobi? He had grown up with him, as close as siblings, Bruck remembers now, for five years before they began to drift apart, a rivalry forming between them that burned anything close to friendship they may have had once, no matter how unease because of their clashing elements. He had known Obi-Wan since the first night of his stay in the crèche, when the empath had sensed his distress and home sickness, and the other Elf had crawled into his bed and hugged him close, humming a nonsensical little song that Bruck would learn came from his Storm Elf blood and the nymph ancestry that came with it, and was meant to encourage healing and strength. The half-breed had been at the Academy since he was an infant, the life of an Initiate was the only one he had ever known, and he had wanted to comfort him as he cried. For the first month of his stay, Bruck had clung to the other Elf, before tearing himself away by force because he didn’t want to be known as the child who couldn’t do anything but follow behind the small slip of an elfling with the flaming hair and stormy eyes.

Bruck had always been loyal - to himself mainly - and he had always given his loyalty easily, loyalty that was easier still to take away. He had been loyal to his family, to the Academy, to his crèchemates - and he had been betrayed by all of them. They had pushed him aside. Xanatos had saved him, had loved him, had _Chosen_ him.

But he couldn’t chase away the memory of the little elfling with the musical voice, and it overlaps with Kenobi’s screams as Xanatos’ automatons torture him.

Bruck dresses there in the hallway, numb to the world around him, barely aware, and he lets his feet carry him away. He walks, head swimming and feeling ill, and without realizing it, he finds himself wandering into the dungeon, towards the cells. He stops in front of the gate of the only occupied cell.

Mereel barely looks human anymore, but is a twisted, warped parody of what he once was, runes burning on his graying skin. He thrashes, fabric torn from Obi-Wan’s tunic clenched in his elongated jaw, to stop him from biting off his tongue and muffle the constant, haunting screams that are steadily morphing into howls. Despite this, Obi-Wan clings to him, keeping his head in his lap as he runs bloodied fingers through dark hair. The only noise in the cell, beyond the Prince’s sounds of agony, is a song. A collection of nonsensical notes rising and falling into a shaky harmony as Obi-Wan sings to the cursed boy.

Bruck hesitates, torn, before drops the ring of keys onto the stone floor, and kicks them into the cell. Then, he turns on his heel and walks away before he has to see what happens next.


	7. haastal (Jango Mereel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (lasting emotional scar)

Mand’alor Jango Mereel rides at the head of the Mando’ad _bes’bavar_ , dressed head to toe in gleaming silver beskar painted with garnishings of cobalt, bow slung across his back and deadly _beskad’e_ sheathed at his hip, his a black cape flowing behind him like a banner. He’s the image of Mandalorian legend, a force of righteous justice made flesh.

He _burns_ with it.

Kyr’tsad would burn, they would suffer, and Jango would be sure of it. These _aruetiise_ had taken one of Jango’s _ade_ , and if Montross was to be believed - which Jango unfortunately did, because Jinn had dosed the man with enough truth potions to make him reveal his deepest, darkest secrets - his son and the lad’s _ka’runi_ are being tortured. Kyr’tsad had bought the services of a _dar’jetii_ , and du Crion had created a spell using Tarre Vizsla’s notes that would strengthen the curse in his boy’s soul in all the worst ways, to drag it to the surface and force his body into a Shift well before it was ready. Montross had told them what the enchantment would do, step by agonizing step, and even under the fog of the serum the sick pleasure of the knowledge was obvious.

Montross had wanted Kote to _hurt_ , had taken pleasure from the story of the suffering his son was going through.

Montross had died for his betrayal, and Jango only regrets that it hadn’t been slower, but he had lost his temper and removed the man’s head there on the spot in one fell swoop, after the _hut’uun_ had revealed everything, and shared his guilt in the death of Mand’alor Jaster Mereel. He had admitted to leading his King and friend into a trap, and leaving him to die of his injuries. All because he felt like he deserved the crown, and felt like Jaster had stolen it from him by adopting Jango and naming him his Heir after Arla’s death, but being too cowardly to challenge either of them for it. With every child Jango had, Montross saw ‘his’ throne getting further and further out of his reach until he had snapped. He had wanted to kill Jango’s _ade_ for years, but had known that if he had acted on those desires, no one would follow him.

So he had set Kyr’tsad on them, intent to let them kill each other, and claim the throne in the following slaughter. He’d have kept one of Jango’s daughters alive, to groom and prepare as his wife, because Montross was aware of his advanced years, and he had to secure his hold on the crown by having Heirs of his own, heirs with the cursed strength of the Mereel line that no one would dare challenge - Cody’s death, the one person he hated almost as much as Jango for being the one to fortify the Mereel’s hold on the throne, was merely a bonus.

It had signed Montross’ death warrant. Jango had beheaded him on the spot, glad that Rex had been pulled from the throne room before Montross had shared that information, taken by Myles to work his rage out in the training field until he dropped from exhaustion. Jango’s rage had powered the stroke that had had Montross’ head rolling across the ground.

He had ordered his _verde_ to prepare to ride for Concordia before the blood on his _beskar’gam_ had even dried.

Myles and Aldwyn had been left in command, charged with the protection of the capital and Jango’s children. Jango had entrusted Rex with the guardianship of his siblings, making his second son promise to stay in the palace, instead of riding with the _bes’bavar_ like the fiercely determined boy had wanted to. It had taken a lot of promises to wiggle that vow out of his whip-smart _ad_ , displeasure clear in the boy’s bronze eyes - Jango had always seen Myles in their son, and it had never been more obvious in that moment when both of them had been left behind in Keldabe; that likeness had often led to the lad getting almost anything he asked for, but Jango wouldn’t give him _this_ , not when Cody was already in danger. If Jango were to die, and if Cody were already gone, then Jango knew that Myles would guide Rex in his ascension to the throne. He’d left half of his _verde_ in Keldabe, too, to protect his home should the attack Montross had informed them of happened while Jango took back his _ad_.

Hopefully, he still had a son to rescue. If not, he’d have every Kyr’tsad _hut’uun_ tortured within an inch of their lives before they were executed. He’d have justice, and if Kote was marching on… he’d have _vengeance_.

“Mand’alor!” Jango signals the _verde_ to stop as his scouts return, melting out of the shadows of the surrounding forests, and the party leader comes towards him, silver and green armour glinting and black kama swaying with every hurried step, and his squire, dogging his steps.

“Report, Skirata.” Jango orders, and A’den Skirata salutes, fist over his heart.

“We found the fortress, _‘alor_.” The young man reports, then shifts, glancing at the shorter figure at his side. “Something is wrong, sir.” Ser A’den says, muffled voice is stilted with alarm uncommon for the usually jovial _ori’ramikad_. “There’s no guards - _anywhere_. The gates are open.”

“Sounds like a trap.” Ser Boaz Vau says grimly from behind him, and to his left, Jinn snorts grimly. The man had been out of sorts since Montross had revealed that it was his former apprentice helping Kyr’tsad, and Jango understands the feeling. He may have never liked the arrogant, smarmy young man that had been Jinn’s former apprentice, but even a blind man could see how much Jinn had loved that lad like he were his own, enough to disavow ever taking another student after du Crion had been expelled from the Academy for using Dark Magicks during his Trial.

“The best way around a trap is to spring it.” The Warlock says, and young Nast Vhett shifts in response from his place at Ser A’den’s side.

“Mand’alor,” The lad in green and yellow _baskar’gam_ says urgently. He’s a House Mereel bastard - thus a child under Jango’s protection - and barely sixteen but still one of the most promising scouts they had, and just as talented with the crossbow he wields. “The whole place tastes of death.”

Fists tightening around the reigns of his warhorse, Jango grits his teeth under his _buy’ce_ , growling deep in his chest, and the Mando’ade around him - even those free of the blood curse - twitch, intent to hunt, to follow their alpha into battle to destroy their enemies. “We take the fortress.” Jango snarls, “We take the fortress, take back our boys, and then we _burn it_ . Anyone who gets in our way _dies_.”

“ _Oya_!” The cheer rises above the din of horses and battle hounds, the bloodlust of his _verde_ rising to meet his own, and Jango spurs his warhorse forward.

A long, soul-chilling howl rends the air. The horses recoil, shying away from danger, and the hounds shrink back, whining.

Jango’s heart drops.

He hopes he isn’t too late.

“ _Jango_.” Silas’ voice is hushed, high-strung and stressed, because they both know what that sound is. It’s too deep to be a wolf but, at the same time, too high to be a direwolf - it has to be their son, as much as neither of them want it to be true. If Cody had Shifted, the beast is in control, and none of them are safe from it’s claws and teeth if he isn’t bound. Not without the lack of trying, none of those suffering from the Soul Beats curse could tell friend from foe when Shifted, they couldn’t differentiate prey from those they loved.

To the beast, _everyone_ was prey.

There were records of the beast tearing apart friends and family, strangers and even their own children, back when the curse had first been laid on their House. No one had wanted to believe it at first, but the curse shredded existing soulbonds and left the next generations without them, only born because the curse heightened the fertility of those under it - probably to do the most damage to the sufferers when their children would die terrible, horrible deaths and the few that lived, lived to pass it on their own children. The odds were better now, that their children would live into adulthood, and Cody - the first child of Mereel blood born with a _ka’runi_ since the time of Mand’alor Mereel the First - was seen as a sign that the curse was finally waning.

If Cody was loose, it would explain the lack of guards A’den had reported, and it would be a fitting fate for the Kyr’tsad, but it would mean that Jango was likely leading his _verde_ to their deaths - and maybe even Kote’s too.

Jango loves his children, but the weight of the crown is unforgiving on his brow and it meant that his people had to come first. If he had to choose between his son and his people - despite every instinct arguing against him - he’d have to choose his people.

He’d have to put his son down - and it _would_ be him to do it, because he’d never let anyone else live with the guilt of Kote’s blood on their hands. Cody was a symbol of hope, hope that the curse would fail, because if he had a soulmate, then _their_ children could too.

He’d carry the weight, as was his responsibility as Mand’alor.

Jango glances at Silas, and he can see the other man’s pain in the slant of his shoulders. Silas _knows_ , just as much as Myles does, because Jango had told them when he had asked for their help to have the children he so desperately wanted. They both know what had to happen if they couldn’t restrain their boy, and he knows how much he _hates_ the position he’s in.

Jango knows because Jaster had to do the same thing to Arla, when she lost control all those years ago. He had seen how much the past King had hated himself as he lied to the people afterwards. The lie that their golden Crown Princess had died during a Shift had been hard to swallow, but it was easier than the truth that she had torn apart ten _verde_ before having to be put down to save everyone else in Keldabe.

Jango himself had had trouble swallowing it when Jaster had told him.

He didn’t want his son to meet the same fate, but if it meant keeping his people safe, he’d have to make the hard decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nast Vhett is Doom, I got it from "naast" which means "destroyer"  
> Boaz Vau is Boss, it's a Hebrew name that means "swiftness" or "strength"


	8. akaanir (Obi-Wan Kenobi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (fight)

Obi-Wan had never been afraid of Cody, not when he had been told of the minute details of his curse during his training, not when he had helped his Master and _Baar’ur_ Mij tend to the cursed people of House Mereel after every Shift, but the sound of the collar around Cody’s neck falling away is unnaturally loud in his ears. Within moments, the Prince is thrashing, body contorting and twisting, thick, dark fur caked with blood pushing through graying skin. Cody howls, head thrown back as his skull reshapes itself, and his spine extends into the hairless tail that rapidly sprouts thick black fur.

Obi-Wan can only watch in horror, rooted in the spot as Cody becomes something no longer human but not quite animalistic, and he thinks, in that moment, that he’s afraid. It only takes seconds for the transformation to complete itself, and when Cody drops his head again, the golden eyes that pin him in place aren’t the ones he’s come to associate with the intelligent and fierce Prince. They’re no longer gentle with his innate kindness, and the only thing Obi-Wan can hear in his soulmate’s song is hatred and hunger.

Obi-Wan fumbles with the keys, bloodied and damaged hands having a hard time gripping the metal, his senses _screaming_ for him to run, to get away from the predator in front of him - because it’s not the Cody he knows anymore. His body is twisted into a warped kind of wolf that looks too human to pass as a canine, built for speed and violence with sharp claws and sharper fangs. He doesn’t look fully wolf, either, though - still standing on two legs, but with the way his body is hunched and his legs have been reshaped, it looks like it could move on all fours just as easily as he could on two, depending on what he was hunting.

He needs to get the collar off, he needs to get it off _now_.

He _should have_ taken it off first, but he had been too focused on helping Cody.

The wolf growls, bloodlust peaking, and Obi-Wan needs to be prepared to defend himself - he’s going to need to defend himself against _Cody_. In that moment, Obi-Wan makes a mistake - he hesitates.

He hesitates, and Cody lunges, jaws gaping. Obi-Wan stumbles back, instinctively trying to _get away_ , but he can’t before the creature is on him and Obi-Wan is sent to the ground. He throws his hands up, to throw a spell that never comes, keys slipping from his grasp, and he doesn’t even get the chance to curse himself for his foolishness before sharp fangs are snapping around his arm, vice-like. For a moment, Obi-Wan is in too much shock to feel the pain of dozens of sharp knives tearing through flesh and shredding muscle, but then he feels bones snap, and right as the agony tears through the limb, Obi-Wan knows instinctively that he’s about to lose his arm if he doesn’t act. Instead of pulling his arm away, which would mean his arm being torn off even if it would be anyone’s knee-jerk reaction, he shoves his arm forward, into the back of Cody’s throat, and the beast chokes.

His arm is released, the creature that was Cody staggering back, hacking in pain, and Obi-Wan stumbles, arm dangling, blood dripping into the dirt. He drops to his knees, fumbling desperately for the ring of keys, tears of pain blurring his vision, and as his fingers lock around the metal he’s forced to roll away as Cody recovers and lunges for him once more. The beast soars over his head, crashing into the stone wall behind him, knocking himself senseless. Obi-Wan comes up on his knees, and he knows without looking that without the use of both arms he won’t be able to get the collar off of his neck.

He needs to get the cell open.

Obi-Wan pushes away his pain, pushes away his fear, and pushes himself forward as he always does. He knows that if Cody Shifts back to see that he had killed him during his transformation, his Heartsong would never forgive himself. He wants to save him from that pain at least, and all he can do is offer him something else to hunt - it brings him no joy, knowing that he’ll be releasing the wolf onto the Kyr’tsad soldiers, but hopefully the beast will choose freedom over going after Obi-Wan again. Pressed against the iron bars, he desperately tries keys against the lock, ignoring the pain of iron burning his skin. But luck seems to be against him, because the first he tries doesn’t fit, the second is too small, and he can’t see the lock to compare them.

He’s trying the fourth when Cody recovers, the beast growling, and Obi-Wan can sense the exact moment when the wolf’s attention locks onto him. He doesn’t have enough time, he barely has seconds before Cody is crossing the small cell, hot breath fanning against him before he’s slammed bodily into the iron, skin sizzling. His face bounces off of the bars with an audible clang, keys slipping out of reflexively numbing fingers.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan reaches for Cody in their bond, because if he’s about to die, he wants to communicate, somehow, that he doesn’t blame him, that he _loves_ him. When he dies, he doesn’t want to die afraid, because he knows that Cody will be able to sense the echoes of it when he comes back to himself, so Obi-Wan tries to center himself, to brace himself.

In the bond, there’s a flicker of _something_.

And he doesn’t die.

The pain he had been expecting never comes. Instead, a wet nose presses against the back of his neck, and hot, heavy pants of air ruffles his greasy hair. Cody snuffles, pressing closer to him, and Obi-Wan can feel the thunderous growl he releases vibrate through his body.

 **_Mine_ ** . The guttural, primal words echo through Obi-Wan’s soul, and he lets out a shaky, stunned breath in response. **_Minemineminemine_ **. The wet nose catches on the metal of the collar around his neck, and the growl goes from possessive to angry.

 **_Yours_ **. Obi-Wan responds, trying to keep what little part of human consciousness Cody has left tethered and in control. The wolf rumbles, and a long, wet tongue drags across his neck, likely scent marking him. Obi-Wan barely has a moment of warning, before teeth are dragging across his skin, catching on the collar, and Obi-Wan gets a moment of choking tightness before Cody’s head jerks slightly, and the silver - a soft metal to properly work as a magical dampener - crumbles like wet paper and is torn away.

Obi-Wan gasps, body going limp as his magic rushes back to the surface like a geyser, and he slides down the bars to drop to his knees, swaying against Cody’ legs. His heart flutters in his chest, and his vision whites out momentarily.

 **_Mine_ ** . Cody rumbles in his soul. **_Mine_ ** . **_My mate_ ** . **_Mate_ ** . **_Mine_ **.

“Yours.” Obi-Wan wheezes out loud, and Cody chuffs, hot, metallic breath ruffling his hair as the Elf blinks the spots from his vision. “ _Cody_.”

 **_Mine_ **. The tongue drags across his cheek, and Obi-Wan turns his head to stare up at the cursed creature hunched over him. The wolf looks shorter than Cody, and Obi-Wan can see, now that he can study him, that it’s because his spine has curled forwards, and his body is covered in a thick layer of coarse, bloodied, black fur. He watches him with glowing, golden eyes as Obi-Wan shivers, enlarged pupils darting across the iron-burns and blood on his exposed skin and lingering on the shredded arm that dangles uselessly at his side, his protective rage a piercing song that makes Obi-Wan’s head pound.

“Yours.” He agrees again, **_Mine_ **.

The wolf blinks slowly, song calming, seemingly mulling the statement over. **_Yours_ ** . **_Mate_ ** . **_Mine_ ** . Then golden eyes slide past him, towards the gate, and for a moment, Obi-Wan can see Cody’s sharp intelligence shining through the animalistic gaze. **_Out_ **.

Obi-Wan follows his eyes, a small smirk lighting up his features. **_Yes_ ** . **_Yes_ ** . **_Out_ ** . “You’re brilliant, _cyare_.” He breathes, and Cody barks in delight.

 **_Out_ ** . **_Hunt_ ** . **_Out_ ** . **_Free_ **.


	9. gra'tua (Cody Mereel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (vengeance)

He hunts.

He’s free from his cage-cell; it only takes a few tries to ram himself against the bars, to force them to bend and break, tearing the iron door off its hinges and throwing it into the hall. The Wolf howls in victory, the boy in his soul joining him. Wolf and boy have never worked together before, never  _ not  _ been fighting - the Wolf thinks the boy is too weak, and the boy is afraid of the Wolf and refuses to let him hunt - but now they have something to work together for.

_ Mate  _ \- their mate with the sharp scent and the sharper eyes. Their mate who is quiet and sweet, and fierce enough to bring enemies to their knees and make them bare their throats in defeat. They have their mate - their mate who is hurt and bleeding, and the wolf knows that it’s partially their fault. He hadn’t been able to recognize that the prey in front of him hadn’t been prey at all, not until his mate had spoken in his soul and brought peace to the wolf and boy who fought within. His mate had freed him from the collar, had fought the pain and made it go away, had pushed away the haze of fury and hunger in his soul so that he could finally  _ see _ .

He had his mate - but his mate had smelt of others, of chemical and blood and pain, and was collared too. So the Wolf had listened to the boy - to  _ Cody _ , as his mate called him, and reminded the wolf of who they are. They are Kote, Cody; Prince and  _ ori’vod _ , and they need to get themselves and their mate  _ home  _ to their pack. The Wolf listened to Cody, and freed his mate, had torn the stinking collar from around his throat and had marked him as his own, so that those who tried to take him knew his mate was  _ his _ .

He had finally claimed his mate, and his mate claimed him in turn.

And now they hunt, running down the halls together, side by side as it always should have been. The Wolf gets to feel bodies tearing under his claws and caving in when his teeth lock around them. He gives each body a good shake, enjoying the feeling of bone and flesh being crushed, and the sight of blood spraying across the halls that had imprisoned them. It covers the scent of his mate’s blood already seeped into the dirt.

_ This  _ is how it’s supposed to be.

A figure in blue and black  _ beskar  _ rounds the corner, and in the Wolf’s mind, Cody snarls  **_Kyr’tsad_ ** , burning with a hatred that the wolf howls for all to hear and fear. The Wolf lunges, intent on ripping into the armoured prey, to tear and kill and destroy, and Cody’s bubbling warning of  **_caution_ ** is brushed aside. The boy is too hesitant, too soft - the Wolf is not.

The prey lifts it’s crossbow, and the Wolf smells the wolfsbane too late as the bolt flies. Cody’s knowledge tells him that it’s a perfect shot, that it will go through their eye and kill them instantly - they will die, Cody tells him, because of the Wolf’s arrogance. It’s a possible fatal flaw that the boy himself had learned to control and manage. They will die and leave their mate unprotected, with only one arm he can use to defend himself. Cody burns with  _ fury _ , with  _ anger _ , and  _ hate _ , but it’s aimed at the Wolf, at himself, because the Wolf is mid-lunge, unable to dodge as the poisoned bolt draws closer and closer.

White-blue light spreads out across their vision, sparkling and spiraling, with little shapes that Cody can recognize as magical runes dancing in the misty light like embers. The bolt is deflected, bouncing off the glowing runes and spinning mid-air, before being reflected right at the prey that had shot it. The arrow pierces through the prey’s unprotected neck, spraying metallic-scented blood in the air, and the body crumbles right as the Wolf’s paws hit the ground.

The Wolf grunts, surprised, head swinging around behind him as the magic in the air dissipates in a cloud of deceptively pretty sparkles, to see his mate leaning against the wall, gasping, with sparks lingering around his bloody fingers. A large part of the Wolf bristles at the sight of magic, a bloodlust rising in him to destroy it - but this is their mate.

“Do try to be careful.” Their mate says, displeasure obvious in his soul and by the expression on his pale face. The Wolf grumbles, and their mate rolls his storm-coloured eyes, “You’re welcome, of course.” Cody’s knowledge points out their mate’s sarcasm to the Wolf, and the great beast snorts in annoyance at the both of them, shaking out his fur with an irritated sneeze that’s only half-hearted. The Wolf has enough of Cody in it’s soul that they find it charming. “No need to be rude.” His mate snarks, much to Cody’s growing amusement - it’s rare that anyone would have the gall to mock the cursed wolf. He turns his back on the Elf, pointedly ignoring him, “You don’t need to pout either, love.”

The Wolf, unhappy with the teasing but also oddly shy, looks over his shoulder to growl at his mate, but his annoyance shifts to alarm immediately when the Elf pushes himself off the wall and sways dangerously, the scent of his pain in the air and the ache of his pain in his soul. He lunges to his mate’s side, snuffling worriedly, but a gentle hand pushes his snout away, ruffling the blood-caked fur there.

“I’m fine.” Obi-Wan responds, huffing, but Cody huffs right back, trying to push into the Elf’s space, nosing at his head and neck with little whines.

He’s lying.

“We need to keep going, Cody.” Obi-Wan argues against his worry and displeasure, but Cody pushes closer with another whine. His mate is hurt, and there’s nothing that can be done to help. For all his strength and power, he can’t take away his mate’s pain.

The pain he caused.

He whimpers, licking uselessly at his mate’s neck and cheek, pressing his nose against the delicately pointed ear.  **_Mate_ ** .  **_Mine_ ** .  **_My Mate_ ** .  **_Hurt_ ** .

“Cody.” Obi-Wan soothes, a subvocal song in his words that helps the tension seep from Cody’s shoulders and the pulsing anger in his mind lessen, and he runs a gentle hand down the back of his neck. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. I’ll heal.”

There’s a long moment of silence between them, filled with unsaid words as Cody pushes away the instincts of the Wolf to instead rest his nose against his mate’s pulse, but it’s interrupted by the clatter of multiple armoured feet against the stone floor, and Cody’s ears twitch. His head lifts, lips peeling away from sharp fangs as he snarls a warning, shifting to put himself between Obi-Wan and the approaching soldiers. He can smell Viszla on the damp air, a rotten corrupted scent that makes his stomach churn with disgust.

Next to him, Obi-Wan straightens, magic glowing around his fingers, ready to be unleashed, and Viszla rounds the corner, a glowing black blade held aloft. A squadron of armed Kyr’tsad soldiers follow him, a figure cloaked in black silk among them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you notice, I tried to really subtly show that the wolf and Cody are steadily merging together as one being instead of staying separate as two as the chapter went on, but I'm not sure how well I actually managed it lol


End file.
